


I'm Gonna Get to Know You Better

by Ralkana



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: A Lump of Coul: A Phil Coulson Fan Work Exchange, Alternate Universe - College/University, Blind Date, Christmas Fluff, First Meetings, Getting Together, M/M, Matchmaking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-23
Updated: 2013-12-23
Packaged: 2018-01-05 01:42:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,790
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1088114
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ralkana/pseuds/Ralkana
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Phil's friend Melinda has a friend Natasha who has a friend who'd be <em>just perfect</em> for Phil.</p>
            </blockquote>





	I'm Gonna Get to Know You Better

**Author's Note:**

  * For [msraven](https://archiveofourown.org/users/msraven/gifts).



> For msraven, who requested all the SHIELD agents and likes college AUs. Merry Christmas! I hope you like it!
> 
> Title from the lyrics of _This Christmas_. Sorry if it's in your head now. *g*
> 
> Huge thanks to Kultiras for brainstorming help, to desert_neon and orderlychaos for reading it through upon first draft completion, and to AlyKat, sevencorvus, and everyone in feelschat for their support and cheerleading!

 

Phil aimed and shot the basketball, grinning in triumph as it swished easily through the net. It hit the court and bounced toward Jasper, who let it roll right by as he craned his head to look across the gym. Phil dashed after it before it could get too far, tossing it at Jasper's chest.

"Oof!" Jasper caught the ball by reflex, glaring at him.

"What the hell is so interesting?" Phil asked, breathing heavily after the exertion of the one-on one game. He glanced in the direction Jasper had been staring, and rolled his eyes. Melinda and her friend were working on their sparring, slowly blocking out moves and then speeding up until the moves felt natural.

"Stop being a creeper," Phil told him, snatching the ball from him and dribbling it. He stood on the free throw line, lining up again and tossing, just for practice. It clanked off the rim and he scowled.

"I'm just admiring their form," Jasper said, and Phil threw the ball at him again.

"From a safe distance," he shot back. "Because you know if they catch you ogling, they're gonna kick your ass. Now come on, 'cause _I'm_ not done kicking it and I've got a paper to write soon."

Jasper rolled his eyes but gamely wiped his face with the hem of his t-shirt and started dribbling the ball.

They played for a few minutes more, but Jasper's attention clearly wasn't on the game. The women finished and headed for the locker room, and Jasper turned back to him.

"Time to lose," he said with a grin, and Phil rolled his eyes again.

The next few minutes were a blur of swearing, bumping, tripping, sliding across the court, and occasionally shooting the ball into -- or at least toward -- the basket. Phil ended up on his back, laughing while Jasper stood over him, panting and dripping sweat onto him. He was holding his hand out for Phil to pull himself to his feet when they were interrupted by the sound of a throat clearing at courtside.

They both looked over at Melinda, and Phil swore again as Jasper almost dropped him. She raised an eyebrow as she looked from one man to another, the corner of her lip curling in the barest hint of amusement. She was dressed for class now, jeans and boots and a school hoodie, winter coat over her arm and backpack over one shoulder. Her dark hair was pulled simply away from her face and bundled back into a knit hat.

"Hey, Mel," Phil said breathlessly, wiping his face with his forearm.

"Phil," she answered, inclining her head in acknowledgment. She glanced at Jasper again.

"Melinda, this is Jasper Sitwell. He -- "

"Hi! Nice to finally meet you," Jasper cut in before Phil could finish his introduction, which was probably a good thing, as Jasper was looking so goofily pleased to be talking to her that Phil might have been tempted to mention the time Jasper ate a box of crayons in kindergarten.

"Melinda May. Nice to meet you too," she said and then turned back to Phil. "Walk me to class?"

Phil frowned. "Everything okay?"

"No problems. Just wanted to talk to you about something."

Phil glanced at Jasper, who shooed him away. "Go. I've got o-chem in a little bit anyway."

"Give me five to shower?" Phil asked her, and she glanced at her phone to check the time and then nodded.

"Go," Jasper repeated. "I'd, uh, I'd be happy to keep you company while he's gone."

Phil suppressed his snort and slapped him on the back as he jogged toward the locker room.

"O-chem, huh?" Mel was asking, and Phil grinned to himself, glancing back to see Jasper _casually_ standing with the ball under one bare arm, lean muscles flexing just enough not to be an accident.

He rolled his eyes and hurried toward the showers before Jasper could completely make a fool of himself.

 

**~ ~ ~ ~ ~**

 

Four minutes later, Phil jogged back, gym bag in one hand, backpack and coat over the other arm. He slowed as he approached them. Melinda was smiling, her dark eyes sparkling as Jasper gesticulated wildly with his free hand, clearly in the middle of some tale.

Phil had a moment to hope it wasn't a story about _him_ , but overall, he was pleased. They were both good friends, and it'd be nice if they got along, though it’d probably be messy in the end. He was used to his friends hooking up and breaking up around him in the complicated social web of his life.

"Ready?" he asked as he neared them. They both glanced at him, startled, as if they'd forgotten he was coming back.

"Crap, yeah," Melinda said with another glance at her phone. "I've gotta go. Class. It was really nice to meet you!"

"You too, and hey, maybe we can study together later this week. Phil's got my number if you wanna text me," Jasper told her, and Phil hid his smirk at just how eager he sounded -- if he had a tail, it’d be wagging furiously.

"Sounds good," she said with another smile and a little wave, which he returned while reaching up to adjust his glasses with the other hand, and Phil couldn't completely stifle his laugh as the basketball fell to the court. Jasper glared at him and he just grinned and turned to leave the gym with Melinda.

They pulled on coats and scarves and gloves at the door, taking a minute to get settled before bracing themselves and stepping out into the winter chill. Setting a brisk pace, they headed for the engineering building.

"He seems nice," she said after a minute, her voice muffled by her scarf.

"He eats crayons," Phil told her, and she actually stopped to stare at him. He laughed. "Well, he did when we were five."

She rolled her eyes and shoved at him to keep moving.

"So, what's the big deal that you had to drag me out of the warm gym and into this frigid wasteland?"

She didn’t answer right away, and his concern, which had been nudging at the back of his mind, flared up.

"Melinda?"

"Nothing's wrong, I swear, okay. Listen, Natasha and I were talking, and she has this friend -- "

"No," he said instantly.

"Come on, Phil -- "

"You were talking about _me_?" His voice absolutely did not squeak.

"Not about _you_ ," she shot back. "Just... about our friends."

"And what, you just happened to mention that you had a pathetic single gay friend who needed -- "

"Hey!" she snapped, stopping to glare at him. "Knock it off, okay?"

Phil hunched his shoulders, only partly due to the cold, and scowled at her.

"Look, it’s not like I couldn’t find a date if I tried, okay? I don’t have time, and I don't need to be set up. I -- "

"It's not a setup. It's just an introduction. At Nick's party next weekend. Tasha's going, and she said she'd bring her friend along. It's just an introduction at a party, so if you really hate him, you never have to see him again."

"Melinda -- "

She placed her hand on his arm, but he only felt the faintest pressure of it through their gloves and sweaters and coats. 

"Look, if you really don't want to meet him, don't meet him. But even if you’re not looking for a relationship, you could always use another friend, right? Just think about it, okay?"

Without waiting for an answer, she jogged up the stairs and into the engineering building, leaving him standing alone in the snow.

 

**~ ~ ~ ~ ~**

 

Phil sighed, realizing he'd read the same paragraph of his notes four times. He just couldn't concentrate. The semester was nearly over and it was almost time to head home for the holiday break, and his job in the Poli-Sci Department office was done until mid-January. He was tired, and he was definitely ready for a break, but he was not looking forward to going home to face the bombardment of questions he was sure to get from his extended family. He'd made Dean's List seven semesters in a row, but nobody seemed to care about that -- it was expected. All anybody ever seemed to want to ask about was his social life.

_Yes, I'm still single. No, I’m not worried. No, I don’t need you to set me up with your neighbor’s gay nephew. Yes, I’m sure._

He stifled another sigh, sitting back in his chair to push up his glasses and scrub at his eyes. He stared unseeingly across the library, lost in thought.

The two guys studying at the small table across the way caught his eye. They were sitting close to each other, absorbed in their work, but as he watched, one of them nudged the other's hand, stroking his knuckles across the back of it. The other looked up, caught his eye, and they shared a small, private smile as he turned his hand under the first guy's, curling their fingers together briefly before pulling away to turn the page. They weren't being demonstrative, but they were clearly very happy to be close to each other. It was nice to see, and Phil couldn’t stop sneaking glances at them.

An eraser sailed from the other side of the table and bounced off his temple, and he caught it and turned to see Nick glaring at him.

Phil glared at Nick in return and lobbed the eraser back at him, lips thinning in annoyance when Nick caught it before it hit him.

"Are you actually planning to study, or did you just come to the library to brood beautifully in the warm glow of the overhead fluorescent lights?" Nick snarked, dropping the eraser and reaching for his highlighter to circle something else in his notes.

Phil half-heartedly narrowed his eyes at Nick, too preoccupied to even think of a comeback.

"Really, man, you are putting out some major moody vibes. That poor couple over there probably thinks you're about to grab a baseball bat or something."

"What?" Phil tore his gaze away from the couple, who actually were watching him nervously, to stare at Nick. "That's ridiculous."

Nick smirked. "Seriously, Cheese, what's on your mind? 'Cause it's definitely not the notable battles of the Pacific Theater."

Phil sighed. Nick was not the kind of best friend he could really talk boys with -- come to think of it, he didn't _have_ a best friend he could talk boys with -- but he'd been thinking about Melinda's offer all day. He couldn't get it out of his mind.

"Mel wants to introduce me to her friend's gay best friend," he told Nick, and when Nick gave him a _seriously? We're seriously talking about this?_ eyebrow raise, Phil added, "Hey, you asked."

Nick leaned back, tossing his pen on the table as he pulled his completely contraband thermos out of his coat and took a swig. He offered it to Phil, who grimaced and declined, knowing the coffee it held was cloyingly sweet -- Nick shouldn't have been allowed to call the sugary sludge he drank coffee.

"So what's the problem?" he asked, gesturing widely with the lid of the thermos. "Just meet the dude."

"I don't have _time_ for a boyfriend," Phil told him. "I've got more than a full load of classes, a job, and my volunteer hours. I don't have the time or the patience to get dressed up and pretend to be someone I'm not to impress someone I don't even know and have never even met -- what?" he broke off defensively. The look Nick was aiming at him was distinctly unimpressed.

"No one asked you to be someone you're not," Nick told him as he took another swig of coffee and then replaced the thermos in his coat. "All right, we got shit to do, so we're gonna make this fast. Are you happy? In your life, right now, are you happy?"

Phil stared at him. "Of course I'm happy. I don't need a boyfriend to be happy!"

His voice rose a little too much for the library, and there was a loud shush from the study carrels across the way.

Nick rolled his eyes. "I'm not saying you do. But it's been a long time since you broke up with that asshole, right?"

Phil's lips twitched involuntarily at Nick's words. _That asshole_ was the way Nick regularly referred to Phil's ex-boyfriend, and technically, that asshole was the one who'd done the breaking up, dumping Phil after nearly five years. He’d left Phil’s heart in bloody shreds that Nick and Phil's other friends had done their best to pick back up and patch back together, and Phil was forever grateful to them. He shrugged and nodded.

"So maybe it's time to meet someone new. Meet this guy. Have a two week fling over winter break."

"I'm going home right after your party. That's where I'm supposed to meet him, by the way."

"So have a one night stand. Get laid. Have some fun. Just, for fuck's sake, can we go back to studying now? I'm not going to fail this group project 'cause you can't decide if you want to man up and meet this dude or not."

"You're all heart, Nick."

"Yeah, yeah, that's me. Mr. Romance."

 

**~ ~ ~ ~ ~**

 

Tray in hand, Phil glanced around the dining hall until he spotted his friends crowded around a table in the corner. He headed in that direction, plunking the tray down on the table between Jasper and Jimmy Woo. He eyed them both blandly until they rolled their eyes and shoved apart enough to make some room for him to sit. As he sat, Phil noticed with a smirk that Jasper used his arrival to scoot closer to Melinda than was strictly necessary.

He listened to his friends compare finals horror stories as he happily tucked into his macaroni and cheese. His pleased little hum attracted Jasper's attention, and he shuddered elaborately.

"I don't know how you can enjoy that crap so much," he said, wrinkling his nose.

Phil ignored him, concentrating on his lunch. Phil's mother believed in all-natural, organic everything, and processed food was still a novelty for him, even after a few years away from home. Jasper, on the other hand, detested dining hall food and avoided it as much as possible. Phil suspected the only reason he'd started joining them over the last week was that he'd learned that Melinda often ate with Phil and the others.

"So," Phil said to Melinda after a few minutes, when his stomach had stopped grumbling. He wiped his mouth with a napkin and took a sip of his soda. "Tell me about this guy."

She smiled at him, pleased, even as Maria said, "Oooooh, what guy?"

"My friend Natasha has a friend we want to introduce Phil to," Melinda told her.

"Oooooh! Blind date!" Maria’s eyes lit up.

"It's not a blind date," Phil said quickly, even as Melinda said, "It's just an introduction. At Nick's party this Saturday."

"What are you wearing?" Jasper asked him, and when the whole table stared at him, he shrugged. "I'm just saying, you should wear the sweater your grandma sent you for Christmas."

Phil's eyes widened in horror. "What?"

“Wait, nobody told me it was an ugly sweater party," Jimmy said in confusion.

Phil choked on his lunch at the idea of Nick wearing anything like what his grandmother had sent him. As a joke. He was pretty sure she'd meant it as a joke. He hoped. "It’s not."

“Dammit, Phil, why’d you tell him that? That could’ve been really funny,” Maria complained, and Jimmy scowled at her.

“I thought we agreed to pretend that sweater never existed,” Phil said to Jasper, who smirked.

"You could probably find out a lot about him by his reaction to it."

"It has reindeer dancing around a Christmas tree on the front and Rudolph wrapping presents on the back, complete with extra fuzzy nose," Phil reminded him. "It lights up."

"Exactly. You'd find out if he has a sense of humor."

“Can we please table any more talk of the ugliest sweater that ever existed and move on to this guy? What’s his name?”

Melinda frowned, lost in thought. “Can’t remember. He likes comic books. And what’s that show you like, the stupid one?”

Jasper snickered. “You’re gonna have to be more specific -- Phil has terrible taste in TV.”

“The one with the dogs.”

"You remember that he likes _Dog Cops_ and comic books but you can't remember his name?" Phil arched an eyebrow.

Melinda shrugged. "Finals. I had formulas to memorize -- they were a little more important. But I remember that she said he just transferred here on an archery scholarship. Great body," she grinned, and Phil groaned, tossing his napkin on the table.

"Great. I'm sure he'll be just thrilled to meet _me_ , then."

"Awww, wookit widdle Phillip, fishing for compliments," Jasper grinned, elbowing Phil, who put serious consideration into shoving Jasper's face into the remains of his spaghetti.

“I am _not_ fishing,” he said evenly. “I’m just saying I’m probably not going to be what he’s looking for -- ”

"But you’re cute, Phil,” Maria protested, and when he narrowed his eyes at her, suspecting mockery, she added, “No, seriously. I'd bang you.”

Everyone stared at her, and she blinked, her blue eyes wide. "Was that an overshare?"

Her phone buzzed on the table, and she glanced at it. "Shit. Gotta go, Comm Ethics final."

They all watched her go, still speechless.

Phil cleared his throat and took another bite of mac and cheese. “I’m not promising anything,” he warned Melinda. She rolled her eyes, tossing her napkin to the table.

“God, Phil, it’s not a damn marriage contract. It’s just an introduction!”

She stood, picking up her tray. “I need to finish my Fluid Dynamics project. Anyone else heading to the library?”

Jasper stood up so quickly he almost knocked his chair over. “I’ll walk you.”

The smirk Melinda sent at Phil was faintly smug.

“I’ve got to cram for history, I’ll go too,” Jimmy said obliviously, and Phil stifled his grin at the way Jasper’s face fell. The three of them waved at Phil and walked off, discussing papers and projects and finals. Relishing the sudden quiet, Phil finished his lunch, shutting out all thoughts of hot mystery archers and focusing on his Contemporary Political Thought notes.

 

**~ ~ ~ ~ ~**

 

Phil’s alarm went off and he grunted, squirming along the mattress until he could snag his phone off his desk to turn it off without removing his face from the pillow.

On the other side of their dorm room, Jasper groaned and shoved his own pillow over his head.

“You’re not going to the gym this early?” he asked, his voice muffled. “It’s like 3 a.m., man.”

Phil sat up wearily, scrubbing his hands over his cheeks. “Five,” he said with a yawn. “Volunteering today, remember?”

Jasper grunted something that might have been an acknowledgment, and Phil smirked in the dark.

“Wanna come?”

“No. Thank you. You go do enough good for both of us. I have packing to do.” He groaned again. “So much packing.”

“See you at the party.”

“Ooooh, tonight’s the night for mystery man…”

Phil threw his pillow at Jasper’s head and trudged for the showers.

 

**~ ~ ~ ~ ~**

 

The hall was bustling, full of conversation and the scrape of silverware on ceramic, occasionally punctuated by children’s laughter, which drew a smile from Phil whenever he heard it.

They had a record turnout for the local food bank’s annual holiday meal, which was a depressing thought. Dozens -- hundreds -- of men, women, and children shuffled through the line for the meal Phil had helped prepare and serve.

The twelve foot Christmas tree filled the hall with the fresh smell of pine, and Santa sat before it in an elaborately gilded chair, ho-ho-ho-ing all over the place. He smiled for photos and listened to the littlest ones babble out their wishes, handing each one a candy cane and a small toy with a jolly grin.

Santa, Phil knew, was one of the anchors from the local nightly newscast -- it was a role he happily played every year, but this year he had a new assistant.

There was a guy around Phil’s age entertaining the slightly older kids, a volunteer Phil had never seen before. He was wearing a red and green elf’s costume and a pointed hat with bells that jingled cheerfully as he juggled colored balls and small, brightly wrapped packages, occasionally tossing one to a kid before producing another from what seemed like a bottomless bag. He let everything drop to the floor now and then, gasping theatrically as he pulled chocolate coins wrapped in shiny gold foil from behind the ears of the younger kids, who giggled appreciatively.

Some of the older girls had stars in their eyes as they watched him, and Phil couldn’t really blame them. He didn’t know who the guy was, but he had a beautiful smile, and his arms were incredible in the sleeveless vest he wore. When he turned slightly, bending a little bit to pick up one of the balls he’d dropped, Phil swallowed hard and almost dropped his serving spoon. No one’s ass should look that good in an elf’s costume.

“You all right?” The low rasp from the man he was serving startled Phil back to himself, and he could feel himself blush.

“Of course. I’m sorry, here,” he said quickly, spooning mashed potatoes onto the man’s plate. “Merry Christmas,” he added with an apologetic smile.

The man eyed him warily as he moved to the next station for gravy.

Phil did his best to concentrate on his serving duties -- he was here for a reason, and it wasn’t to ogle hot elves -- but he couldn’t help the glances he snuck every so often.

He froze, caught out, when he realized the guy was looking back at him. He glanced away, blushing furiously, but when he peeked again, the guy was still watching him, grinning even as he juggled half a dozen presents and balls, and Phil couldn’t help but smile back.

The other volunteer’s grin widened, and Phil felt a little breathless -- that was definitely a flirty smile. His first instinct was to glance away, ignore the guy, stop paying attention to him at all and hope he’d get the hint, but Phil had been thinking about what Nick had said -- maybe it was time to try and meet someone new. He returned the smile and wondered if the elf’s shift ended the same time his did.

A large family came through his line, drawing his attention back to his job, and when he looked up again, the elf was on the other side of the large room, helping Santa hand out gifts. Tamping down his disappointment, Phil set about restocking his station with more potatoes.

 

**~ ~ ~ ~ ~**

 

Exhausted, feet sore from standing for hours and arms and back aching from lugging heavy trays of food around, Phil relaxed alone in the volunteer break area, wearily swigging room temperature water from one of the bottles donated for the helpers. 

His stomach growled -- it had been a long time since the egg sandwich he’d grabbed for breakfast, and the smell of a holiday meal with all the trimmings lingered in the air. He knew he was going to have to bundle up and head out into the snow to find something to eat and get ready for Nick’s party, but right now all he wanted to do was sit.

He glanced up as someone else pushed through the curtained divider, unconsciously straightening in his chair at the flash of red and green.

The volunteer in the elf costume came in, stopping short at the sight of Phil before grinning.

“Hi,” he said, his voice soft and a little gravelly -- Phil felt an embarrassing little flutter at the sound of it. The guy dragged the pointy hat off his head, and it jingled merrily. His short, sandy hair was smashed flat under it, and he scrubbed a hand through it until it stuck up in wild spikes in every direction. Phil’s lips twitched at the sight.

“Hi,” he replied. It was about all he could manage. The guy’s arms were even more amazing up close, and now Phil could see that the eyes he’d thought were a gray or light blue were actually a swirl of color, green and blue and gray and gold. He’d never seen anything like them, and he was having real trouble looking away.

Luckily, the guy didn’t seem to mind Phil gaping at him like an idiot.

“I’m Clint,” he said as he twisted halfway to reach for one of the bottles of water, and Phil was _very_ proud of himself for not letting his attention roam and keeping his eyes on Clint’s face -- not that it was a punishment, with those eyes.

“Phil,” he replied, and Clint smirked.

“I know,” he said, and when Phil frowned at him, he laughed, an easy happy sound Phil definitely wanted to hear again. “You’re, uh…” he gestured at Phil’s chest with the hand holding the water bottle cap. “You’re wearing a nametag.”

Phil glanced down at his sweater, eyes widening as his cheeks heated. “Right,” he muttered, peeling off the nametag. His shift was over; he didn’t need it anymore.

Clint chugged his water, and Phil lost a little bit of time watching the long line of his neck and the way his throat worked as he swallowed. He tore his eyes away eventually, staring down at his hands, which were folding and refolding the name tag he’d removed.

He glanced up as Clint tossed the cap into the trash can across the break area, raising an eyebrow at the perfect shot across the fairly sizeable distance.

Clint grinned. “I never miss,” he said, and it should’ve sounded cocky, but it only sounded certain.

“Hmm,” Phil said speculatively, and Clint only smiled wider. “I don’t remember seeing you at the planning meetings,” he said curiously -- he definitely would’ve remembered Clint.

Clint’s eyes went impossibly wide and innocent. “I came from the North Pole. With Santa.”

Phil snorted, and Clint grinned and dropped into a chair across from him. He slouched comfortably, legs stretched out in front of him, and Phil really couldn’t help the way his gaze slid over Clint’s legs in the tight costume. 

When he glanced up, Clint was smirking again, but it faded into something troubled that then slid into something blank and expressionless. Phil wished he hadn’t asked.

“I’m, uh, I’m pretty new here,” Clint said quietly. “I was… I just wanted to help some way, and my friend Nat told me about this thing. It sucks having to spend Christmas this way, you know? With nothing to eat and nowhere to go.”

The way he said it made Phil think it was more than just objective observation, and he bit his lip, not sure of what to say. After a moment, Clint shrugged.

“Anyway, I just thought, maybe if I could keep the kids busy they wouldn’t have to think about it for a while.”

“You did a great job,” Phil told him. “The kids loved you.”

Clint smiled. “Thanks.”

Phil opened his mouth to ask where he’d learned to juggle when he was overtaken by a jaw-cracking yawn. He hastily covered his mouth as Clint laughed.

“Boring you?”

“Sorry. I didn’t get much sleep -- this week was kind of brutal.”

“Mmm, finals,” Clint agreed. “Thank god that’s over.”

That answered one question for Phil. “Yours were rough too, huh?”

Clint nodded and then rested his head against the back of the chair. After a moment, he huffed with laughter. “Though I think the roughest part was not laughing in my Urban Spaces final -- I swear, Dr. Milken looks _just_ like Sgt. Whiskers, and he was just sitting there with his phone in his hand, like in that one episode, god, what’s it called -- “

“You watch _Dog Cops_ ,” Phil said, delighted, and Clint stared at him.

“Seriously? Who doesn’t?”

They were ten minutes into comparing their favorite episodes and scenes when Clint’s stomach growled loudly. He chuckled in embarrassment.

“Guess it’s been a while since breakfast.”

“Yeah, I’m pretty hungry, too.” Phil took a deep breath, gathering his courage. “I was just about to grab some lunch actually -- do you want to go with me?”

Clint blinked at him, quiet just long enough for reversals and apologies to start backing up on Phil’s tongue, and then he grinned, wide and open and flirty.

“Sure,” he said, and then he shook the hat so that it jingled. “Mind if I change first?”

 _Yes, actually, I do,_ Phil thought, eyes on the curve of Clint’s biceps, but he shook his head. “Of course not. I’ll, uh -- I’ll wait right here. We can go -- I know this place that makes great burgers, if that’s all right? It’s called the Ast -- “

“Astro Diner, yeah!” Clint said enthusiastically. “Their burgers are fucking _amazing_. Be right back!”

He grabbed his backpack and bounded out of the break area, and Phil watched him go without the slightest bit of guilt.

 

**~ ~ ~ ~ ~**

 

Outside the hall, the afternoon was gray and grim but the snow had finally stopped for a while and the roads were clear.

They drove separately to the diner, after Phil had stood blinking a bit at Clint’s bright purple truck. It was weathered and had seen some serious miles, but it was obvious he took care of it, and Phil grinned at the way Clint had fondly slapped the bumper before climbing in.

Phil’s own Blazer was no longer shiny and new either -- it had been a high school graduation gift from his grandparents -- but it had served him well, and he loved it.

He pulled into the diner’s parking lot just before Clint, getting out in time to hear the incredibly loud music -- something with screeching guitars -- abruptly die as Clint turned off the truck.

They tumbled into the warmth of the diner together, and if Phil leaned a little closer to Clint than absolutely necessary while coming through the door, Clint didn’t seem to mind. In fact, Phil was _almost_ certain he’d felt the brief pressure of the other man’s hand against the small of his back momentarily, but it was quickly gone and difficult to tell anyway through the layers of their gloves and coats and sweaters.

The diner was crowded, as it was Saturday afternoon and a lot of students were stopping for a quick bite to eat before heading home for the winter break. Phil and Clint squeezed into a little booth in the corner and instantly ordered burgers, fries, and coffee.

There was a bit of a lull after the waitress took their orders, and they looked at each other a little awkwardly. Clint shifted in his seat, and Phil watched his shoulders move in the sweater he’d changed into. It was wonderfully snug on him, highlighting the definition of his chest and his arms, and it was a very pretty color, something in between blue and gray that did amazing things to his already amazing eyes.

He didn’t mean to stare, but Clint ducked his head after a moment, the tips of his ears going red as he looked at the table. Embarrassed, Phil cleared his throat.

“So, um, you mentioned… Urban Spaces, I think? Is that…”

“Architecture,” Clint said with a smile as he took a sip of his coffee. “You?”

“Me? Oh, um, I’m doing International Relations with a minor in Economics.”

Clint blinked at him. “Wow. What, uh, what…”

“What am I going to do with my life?” Phil asked with a laugh, and Clint grinned. “Intelligence, I’m hoping. There’s a couple of exams I need to take next year that’ll give me a better idea of my options.”

“Intelligence like… like the CIA or something?” Clint’s eyes were wide, and Phil’s lips quirked in a grin.

“Maybe.”

“Wow. My friend, Nat, she could probably do something like that, she -- “

“Wait,” Phil broke in as a couple of pieces slid together. Clint’s friend Nat was a she -- _Natasha_ \-- he liked _Dog Cops_ , he was new to the area and had incredible arms, and Phil remembered seeing a decal on the back bumper of Clint’s truck that looked like… he glanced out the window into the parking lot.

Yep. An archery target.

He snorted, a laugh bursting free, and then he couldn’t stop laughing, even as Clint watched him with wide eyes.

“What’s…” he gasped, and then he took a sip of water to try and pull himself together. “Who’s your favorite superhero?”

Clint’s brow drew together in confusion. “I… it depends on the publisher? I mean, Captain America, yeah, but there are some great independent books -- ”

Phil snorted again, laying his forehead down on the cool tabletop.

Clint leaned in. “You all right?” he said worriedly.

“You’re supposed to go to a party tonight, right?” he got out. “And your friend Nat, she’s gonna introduce you to someone?”

Clint sat back, his eyes wide. “Oh -- oh my God. You -- you’re him. Holy crap, what are the odds?”

He put a hand over his mouth but a chuckle broke free, and Phil started laughing all over again.

They were both giggling helplessly when the waitress brought their food, and though they tried to calm down, the wary looks she shot them started them off all over again. It was only the prospect of cold burgers and fries that forced them to settle down.

“Mel -- Mel’s never going to let me forget this,” Phil said, a grin fighting to break free again as he squeezed ketchup onto his plate.

Clint ate a fry, shaking his head in disbelief. “Nat either.”

“Pfft,” Phil scoffed. “Like we needed their help anyway.”

Clint’s eyes were still sparkling with laughter, but the smile on his lips turned into something softer, something… fond.

“I’m really glad we ran into each other this way instead.”

Phil paused, burger in hand. “Me too,” he realized. “I don’t know that it would’ve been the same, tonight. So many expectations.”

“Exactly,” Clint said quietly.

“But, hey, it should be a great party anyway. Nick, it’s at his place, he’s been a friend forever, and he always throws great ones. Would you, uh, would you like to go? With me?”

Clint grinned. “I would -- especially to see the look on Nat’s face!”

Phil had to put his burger down before he dropped it as he started laughing again.

 

**~ ~ ~ ~ ~**

 

“I’m telling you,” Jasper muttered, taking a sip of his drink as they stood watching the door and pretending like they weren’t. “You should’ve worn the Christmas sweater.”

“If you love it so much, you’re welcome to have it,” Phil said evenly. Clint and Natasha were a little late, or maybe he’d come early -- he was nervous. Maybe Clint had changed his mind after lunch and decided not to come? Maybe he’d just been humoring Phil? He wondered if he’d be more or less nervous if he _didn’t_ know who he was waiting for.

He ran a hand calmingly down the front of the sweater he _had_ chosen, a soft, dark green one he rarely wore, but Melinda had smiled appreciatively when he’d tried it on -- he was a little concerned now what Maria’s reaction to it might be.

Jasper saw the movement and smirked -- Phil didn’t have many tells, but fussing over his clothes was definitely one of them.

The front door opened again and Phil took in a deep breath as Natasha came in, her bright hair reflecting the glow of the Christmas lights strung along the doorway. Her head was angled back over her shoulder as she spoke in a low voice to whoever was behind her. Phil’s heart hit double time and he slowly let his breath out Clint came in after her, muttering back at her, gesticulating with his hands as he spoke.

They shrugged out of their outerwear, and Phil swallowed roughly. He could swear his mouth was starting to water.

Clint had teased his hair into a slightly more orderly crop of spikes, and though the sweater he was wearing now was similar in color to the one he’d been wearing earlier, it fit, if possible, even better, and the dark jeans he was wearing made his ass look _phenomenal_. 

He was still talking to Natasha as she reached for the hem of his sweater to tug at it, and he rolled his eyes and batted her hands away. Phil hid a smile.

“Oh good, they’re here,” Melinda said from just behind Phil, and Jasper jumped and swore, nearly spilling his drink.

“Jesus,” he breathed, and this smile Phil didn’t bother to hide.

“Ready?” Melinda asked Phil.

“Hmm? Oh, sure. I guess.”

Melinda eyed him quizzically but led him over to where Clint and Natasha were standing. Jasper followed eagerly, and Phil could see Maria and Jimmy watching from across the room.

“Phil, this is my friend Natasha Romanov. This is Phil Coulson,” Melinda introduced, and Phil offered his hand.

“Nice to meet you,” he said, and Natasha nodded as she shook his hand, her gaze flicking over him in the quickest, most thorough assessment he’d ever been through.

“You too,” she said after a moment. “This is my friend -- “

“Hi, Clint,” Phil said, offering a casual wave.

“Hey, Phil.”

For a moment the only sound was the pounding bass of the speakers.

“I thought you were going to introduce me to somebody new,” Phil told Melinda. “I already know Clint.”

The identical looks of suspicious disbelief on Melinda and Natasha’s faces nearly broke him, and he only held it together because he didn’t look at Clint. If he focused on the way Clint’s lips were twitching with barely hidden laughter, he was going to lose it.

“You want a drink?” he offered, and when Clint nodded, he gestured with a head tilt. Clint slipped away from Natasha to follow him, and they managed to hold onto their laughter until they hit the tiny kitchen at the back of the house.

Phil leaned against the wall, laughing so hard that tears gathered at the corners of his eyes. Clint was similarly afflicted next to him, one hand pounding on the refrigerator door as he gasped for air.

Phil’s laughter cut off abruptly as Clint leaned into his side, head resting on Phil’s shoulder as he tried to catch his breath.

Clint was warm and solid against him, and Phil could feel the hitching in his chest as he fought to regain some self-control. He wrapped an arm around the other man’s shoulder and drew him in, breath catching in his throat as Clint briefly tucked his face into Phil’s neck, breathing him in and sighing happily. Clint’s hand slid briefly across Phil’s stomach, making Phil’s abs twitch, and then rested on Phil’s waist, one finger slipping between his sweater and the waistband of his jeans, shockingly hot against Phil’s skin.

“That was awesome,” Clint said as he looked up, still grinning, and Phil stared into his eyes. From this distance, inches away, he could see every fleck of color in them, every golden eyelash, and the barest hint of a smattering of freckles across the bridge of his nose that probably darkened every summer as Clint practiced his archery in the sun. He was beautiful.

Clint swallowed, and Phil watched him blink, watched his jaw muscle work as he stepped even closer, his legs sliding to either side of Phil’s where he leaned against the counter.

“Hi,” Clint said, his voice shy and a little husky, and Phil bit back a groan at the sound of it.

“Hi,” he said, and it was nearly a whisper.

Clint’s gaze shifted above him, and he slowly grinned.

“Look,” he murmured, tilting his head so Phil would look behind and above himself.

There, fastened to the overhead light fixture, hung a tiny sprig of mistletoe, no more than a leaf or two, tied on with a miniscule ribbon. Phil grinned, knowing Nick had put it there, despite his insistence that his housemates were the ones who did all the decorating.

“Must be a sign,” Clint said, still smiling.

“I think this whole day is a sign,” Phil murmured. He nosed at Clint’s cheek until Clint turned back to him, his breath warm against Phil’s lips. “A sign of very good things to come. Merry Christmas, Clint.”

“Merry Christmas, Phil. I think you’re right. This is going to be an awesome one,” Clint replied, and then his lips met Phil’s, and there were no more words.

**END**


End file.
